


all i ever wanted.

by katarama



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BDSM, Daddy Kink, M/M, Panties, Power Dynamics, Trans Character, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-07-10 08:06:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6974824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katarama/pseuds/katarama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jackson tries to convince himself that he’s good without Derek.  Derek shows up in Jackson’s dreams, vivid ones, ones that leave Jackson breathing hard, aching when he wakes.  Sometimes Lydia shows up, or Scott.  Sometimes even Stiles.  But Derek seems to be on steady rotation, something Jackson can’t shake.</p>
<p>Jackson comes back to the United States for college, and the wanting doesn’t stop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all i ever wanted.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [taylorpotato](https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylorpotato/gifts).



The first time Jackson sees Derek, Jackson knows he wants something from him.  

At first, he thinks it’s just steroids, a leg up on his competition.  A chance to show McCall that, with an even playing field, he’s the same dweeby kid he always was, and can’t stand up to Jackson.  Derek looks like he’s dying, a little bit, but the guy doesn’t have to be healthy to sell Jackson some juice.  Money isn’t an issue, and the fact that Derek looks deathly pale and incredibly jacked is probably a sign that Jackson’s looking in the right place, if anything.

Derek slams Jackson against the lockers for asking, pins him there with his hand on Jackson’s neck, the sharp prick of claws, and the things Jackson wants from him already start to change.  Derek pays Jackson a visit, when Jackson’s showering, only a towel wrapped around his waist.  Derek doesn’t touch.  Not this time.  But he gets close, and he looks, makes a comment about scratches on Jackson’s neck, like Jackson didn’t notice them.  Like Jackson wasn’t painfully aware of their presence, of the feel of Derek’s big, warm hand, of the way Derek’s nails dug into his skin, the rush of pain and adrenaline, Jackson’s heart beating fast in his chest.

When Jackson learns more, he gives up on the drugs idea.  He has something better to chase after.  Something that won’t show up in a drug test, something that will make him more powerful, faster, stronger.  Scott tries to chase him away, rambling about dangers, about risks.  About hunters.  But Jackson knows better.  Jackson knows that it’s just Scott trying to scare him, to keep Jackson from getting what he has.  

Luckily, Jackson doesn’t need to go through Scott.  If Scott isn’t going to get him what he wants, he’s going to go straight to the source.  They say that Scott can’t change him, but Jackson watches Derek’s eyes go red, watches Derek awash with power.  An alpha wolf, they say.  Jackson’s ticket to power.

Jackson doesn’t waste opportunities like that.  He goes when Derek’s still drunk on it, follows him to his husk of a home.  Asks for the bite, for what he’s been craving all this time.  Jackson gets just what he wants from Derek, which means that (for once), things seem like they’re going how they should.  

Except that they aren’t.  Because Jackson’s losing time.  Losing memories.  Losing his autonomy.  And there’s nothing more terrifying than that, not after Jackson has cut every single thing from his life that made him feel like he was less than perfectly in control.  He cut out Lydia, the only person who knows everything about him, every inch of his body, every place where he’s soft, sensitive.  Every excuse he’s ever given for every monthly absence from school to get his shot.  

Lydia holds Jackson, loves Jackson, and Jackson changes.  Not in all the ways he’s wanted, but in the way he’s coveted most, recently.  But Jackson needs to leave.  Jackson needs to get out of Beacon Hills.  Needs to get out of the state, the whole country, even.  Needs to feel like himself again.  

His eyes flash blue when he looks in the mirror.  He has Derek Hale’s number programmed into his phone, warnings about being an omega away from a pack.  Jackson outwardly chafes at the idea of being Derek’s beta, of being _under_  him.

But with a few years and an ocean’s worth of space, some rough full moons that forced him to break down, to make desperate international calls to Derek, talking through his newfound werewolf fangs, it softens him.  He didn’t think that what he wanted from Derek would ever be this, the alpha’s voice soothing, telling him to find his anchor.  Jackson doesn’t have one.  It’s still hard for him.  He mumbles to himself through sharp teeth, “ _alpha, beta, omega_ ,” and he fixates.  Focuses on having an alpha.  Focuses on what he needs, what he hasn’t let himself have.  He’s not sure if it’s letting himself be weak or forcing himself to be strong, to let himself want.  

Jackson starts going out, again.  Drinking doesn’t do anything, anymore, but he starts hooking up with pretty boys.  It’s easier, now that he’s a werewolf.  He learns the smell of dickhead, learns the smell of someone who’s going to be rude about his small dick, or his hole, wet without lube.  He sometimes can even go out on the full moon, when he’s tense, when he has more he needs to work out.  He even stops punishing himself, thinking about how he and Lydia could have been, if either of them was a little more good to the other, to themselves.  The phone calls to Derek slow.  Jackson starts to piece himself back together.  

He tries to convince himself that he’s good without Derek.  Derek shows up in Jackson’s dreams, vivid ones, ones that leave Jackson breathing hard, aching when he wakes.  Sometimes Lydia shows up, or Scott.  Sometimes even Stiles.  But Derek seems to be on steady rotation, something Jackson can’t shake.

Jackson comes back to the United States for college, and the wanting doesn’t stop.

* * *

 

When Jackson comes back, Derek isn’t alpha anymore.  Derek’s eyes are blue, like his own.  Scott is alpha.  But Scott isn’t Jackson’s alpha.  Even though the raw power isn’t there anymore, even though Derek’s orders don’t feel so immediate, Derek _feels_  like alpha.  Jackson underestimated how intense it would be, being back around him again.  He’s different than when Jackson left.  He doesn’t bark orders.  He isn’t high on power.  He talks less about killing.  

He doesn’t touch Jackson anymore.

Jackson isn’t gonna say that he wants Derek to go back to slamming him around.  At least, not out loud, not where the others can hear.  Not where the others can _smell_.  Jackson’s packer doesn’t get hard, but getting wet around a pack of werewolves, talking about getting shoved around, sounds less than ideal.  

But it doesn’t mean Jackson doesn’t crave touch.  Doesn’t crave Derek’s hands on him.  He’s sure he smells like a mess of hormones, a mess of arousal, and that Derek has to have noticed.  He has seen Derek watching him carefully.  Assessingly.  Calmly.  It’s frustrating, and it only riles Jackson up more, makes him sullen.  Makes him want to push and touch until Derek does _something_  back.

It all comes to a head when Stiles opens his mouth, instead.

Jackson didn’t mean to pick a fight with Stiles.  The thing is, though, that Stiles hasn’t changed as much as he thinks he has since high school.  Stiles still gets mouthy, still jacks off on having the last word, the last snide comment.  He’s less likely to deck Jackson, but he’s no less likely to take every opportunity to take a crack at him verbally.  And maybe he’s still good at it.  Maybe he can still get under Jackson’s skin, can rile Jackson up.

But there’s no reason for his condescending, “Calm down there, princess,” glancing at Derek and Scott like he’s said something truly genius.  And there’s even less reason for it to make Jackson freeze, to make Jackson’s face go hot and his stomach twist up.  

The conversation moves on, but Jackson doesn’t.  He squirms in his chair, trying not to think about it.  It is a strong reaction, but it isn’t a bad one.  It’s just.  Intense.  And unexpected.  It sticks in his gut the same way it did when he first called a guy daddy in bed, the overwhelming mix of shame and security.

“You okay?” Derek asks Jackson gently, and, finally there’s contact.  Derek’s firm hand on Jackson’s shoulder, just as big and solid as Jackson remembered it.  Grounding.  Jackson leans into the touch, almost on instinct.  It takes him a second to collect himself.

“Yeah,” he says.  Derek is looking at him.  Derek’s clear eyes are intense, concerned.  Curious.  Jackson swallows and licks his lips.  “It didn’t upset me.”

“I could smell that,” Derek says, and Jackson is pretty sure he’s gonna die, a little bit.  He’s only going to get wet, if Derek keeps this up, the softness and the closeness, the intensity of his gaze on Jackson’s face.  Stiles has filled out some, but Jackson can’t imagine being little for him.  Derek, on the other hand...

“No one’s ever called me that before,” Jackson says.  “Not even the guys into me calling them daddy.”

Jackson isn’t sure what reaction he expected from Derek.  He didn’t really think about it all that much before he said it, impulsivity and desire winning out.  He’s embarrassed, having said it out loud, and nervous.

Derek’s hand squeezes Jackson’s shoulder.  “Maybe it’s something you should try, then.”

There are offers threatening to spill from Jackson’s mouth.  Things he wants.  Things he’ll let Derek have.  But he bites his tongue, keeps himself contained.  Under control.

“I want that,” he says.

Derek’s hand lingers.

* * *

 

Something about being back in Beacon Hills for the full moon tugs at Jackson.

He isn’t sure if it’s something to do with the nemeton, or whether there’s some inherent power there, or whether it’s something to do with the resurgence of strong emotions, with being back home.  With being back around familiar places, familiar faces.  With being around an alpha again.

He does know that it makes things more intense.  He can feel the moon days before it’s time, in advance enough to worry.  He doesn’t think he’s going to need to lock himself up, dig out handcuffs or chains, but it isn’t a full moon he wants to be alone for.  Everything feels like a lot, every emotion dialed up, every sensation fuller than he remembered it being.  He feels restless.  He wouldn’t say aggressive, but he’s not far off.

Scott notices, of course.  Jackson isn’t sure if he spotted it first, or whether Lydia noticed and talked to Scott about it, but either way, Scott knows.  Scott offers Jackson room to crash in his place, but Jackson says no before even really fully considering it.  Scott is nice.  Scott is Alpha.  But Scott isn’t what Jackson needs.  

“At least crash at Derek’s, then,” Scott says.  “He has the extra space.”  And, well.  Who is Jackson to turn down that kind of instruction.

It’s embarrassing asking.  Jackson hasn’t needed Derek for a long time for full moons.  But Derek seems to take it in stride, and Jackson doesn’t have to beg.  Derek tells him to come over for dinner and to spend the night, and Jackson makes arrangements, gets an overnight bag together that he knows he’ll be too out of it to really need.

He feels like he should keep up appearances, though, and at least pretend he’s going to get through this full moon in one piece.

* * *

 

Derek cooks for Jackson.  They talk through dinner.  It’s not as awkward as Jackson expected it might be.  They did used to talk during full moons.  The details of what Jackson said were sometimes kinda blurry, but he and Derek definitely talked.  He helps clean up the dishes afterwards, and Derek smiles at him.  Jackson feels a warm glow inside.  Pride, or something.  He gets Derek’s elbows knocking his when Derek takes the dishes Jackson’s rinsed to put them in the dishwasher.  

He can feel when everything finally starts to get to him.  It isn’t pure rage, or aggression, that usually hits him first.  It’s the feeling of heat under his skin.  Later on it bleeds into something else, a deeper kind of heat, a restlessness, the need to shed his skin and transform.  But the arousal always comes first.  

Derek takes him to the den.  There’s an air mattress set up there, which Jackson thinks is pretty optimistic, considering the potential for claws.  There are blankets everywhere, and pillows.

“There are handcuffs and chains in the chest, if you need them,” Derek says.

“I prefer those just for when I’m having sex,” Jackson tells him.  “The handcuffs, at least.  Not so much into chains.”

“Just like you prefer being called princess and calling people daddy when you’re having sex,” Derek says.  

“I’d like it all the time,” Jackson says.  He’s feeling horny, and honest, and he thinks there’s pretty good motivation to direct that at Derek.  “But I only get it when I have sex.  Which I haven’t here.  Not yet.”

“Why not?”

It would be easy to brush it off, to tell Derek something about how quiet the club scene is compared to London, or to say he’s been more focused on settling back in.  Jackson doesn’t, though.  

“Because I know who I want sex with, and I’m waiting to see if he’ll do anything about it,” he says, instead.

Derek isn’t unintelligent, and Derek has a sense of smell.  “Maybe he’s waiting for you to ask for it,” he says.  “Maybe he doesn’t want to take advantage, or force anything on you you don’t want.”

“Maybe he needs to stop worrying about that and maybe start fucking me,” Jackson says.  “Maybe I’ve been wanting him to fuck me for years.”

“And call you his princess?” Derek asks.  “A lot of guys aren’t into daddy kink.”

“Are you?” Jackson asks, brazen.  The heat is making him reckless, he knows.  He wouldn’t be so open about it if it weren’t lacing his thoughts, his actions, his emotions.  Not even the impatience eating at him would be enough to force it.  “Are you into that?  And into me?  Because if you aren’t, or you don’t want that with me, you should tell me know.  I’m sure I can find plenty of equally attractive, hairy bears in the area, if you don’t.”

“I am,” Derek confirms.  “I’ve never been on the daddy end of things before, but I’m not against trying.”

Jackson wants to press himself close to Derek, wants to test things out.  Wants to kiss Derek, and wants Derek inside him.  He’s impatient, and wet.  By the end of the night, he knows his underwear will be soaked through.  He leans closer to Derek, closing his eyes.

Derek stops him.

“Not tonight,” Derek says firmly.  “Not like this.  We can talk tonight, but only talk, and when you’re over the effects of the full moon, we can test things out for real.”

It isn’t what Jackson wants to hear.  It’s honestly the last thing Jackson wants to hear.  He’s achey and turned on.  He’s not very good at waiting normally, but it seems particularly burdensome right now.  Derek sees the way his face goes hard, the way his lips push against each other.

“Just be patient, princess,” Derek says, and it’s even more intense than with Stiles, Jackson’s displeasure washing away with the one simple word.

“I’m bad at being patient,” he says petulantly, and Derek slides a hand carefully along Jackson’s back.

“We’ll work on that.  But first, we need to talk about what you want.”

* * *

 

Jackson calls a cab to take him to Derek’s.  He put his big boy panties on under his jeans, his daddy’s favorite pink ones, and it already has him a little bit loose.  He could probably drive safely, but he doesn’t want to risk it.  His daddy always likes it better when he’s careful with adult stuff, even when he’s wearing his panties.  Jackson pays by credit card and goes up to the apartment, buzzing up instead of trying to fumble with the key.  He dropped it, one time, and though his daddy wasn’t disappointed with him, it’s easier to not have to worry about it.  

Days when he’s his daddy’s princess are days when he’s not supposed to worry about a lot of things.  When it’s just sex, when Jackson says the words but doesn’t feel all that little, it’s different.  His daddy isn’t afraid to get a little rough, to spank him if he asks nicely.  But on days like this, when Jackson can feel himself dipping just from his daddy greeting him at the door with a warm, “Come in, sweetheart,” his only job is to be his daddy’s good princess, and to let his daddy to take care of him.

There’s macaroni and cheese in Jackson’s favorite car bowls, and chocolate chip cookies for dessert when Jackson asks nicely.  Jackson doesn’t want to drink his milk, and he complains a little, but his daddy holds firm.  He tells Jackson that if he drinks his milk, then he gets to pick the movie they watch, so Jackson dunks pieces of his cookie into the milk to get as much of it to disappear as he can before he has to drink the rest.

“I wanna watch Finding Nemo” Jackson decides, and Daddy lets him push the buttons on the DVD player.  Jackson’s fingers feel big, and clumsy, but he likes to be the one to get to push the button.  He scrambles back up to the couch when the disc is in, cuddling up next to his big, warm daddy while the commercials start to play on the TV.

Finding Nemo is one of Jackson’s favorites.  Or, one of his favorites without princesses.  The movies always get it wrong, and the princesses are always girls, but Jackson likes them anyway.  Jackson sits through the first part of the movie, his eyes transfixed on the screen.

He starts to notice, though, how close he is to his daddy.  He starts to notice how big his daddy is, with his arm cuddling Jackson close.  He starts to squirm, a little bit, and it reminds him what he’s wearing under his jeans, reminds him of the smooth fabric of the panties and the little lace edges, the pretty pink bow that his daddy likes so much.  

“Daddy,” he whispers.  “Can we have special cuddles?”

“We’re watching a movie right now, princess,” Daddy says.  Jackson knows his daddy is right, and that it’s a movie Jackson picked out himself, but he’s seen Finding Nemo lots of times.  He knows how it ends, and he’s getting a little bit sticky in his big boy panties, and that seems a lot more important.

“Daddy, _please_?  I’m wearing my pretty panties.”

He can see his daddy weakening, can see from his face when he’s starting to cave.  Jackson makes his eyes as big as he possibly can, and says the magic word again.  His daddy always tries to reward Jackson for being a good boy and asking for what he wants nicely.  He’s the best daddy, that way, even though he does sometimes call Jackson a brat.

Daddy reaches for the remote and pauses the movie.  “Okay, princess,” he says.  “We’ll have special cuddles.”

Jackson cheers and jumps up, and Daddy smiles, letting him lead him back to the bedroom.

* * *

 

Derek watches as Jackson slowly strips his clothes off, taking extra time with the button and the zipper on his jeans.  When they first started, Derek used to offer to help, but Jackson would pout at him, telling him that he didn’t need his help, so Derek knows better now.  He waits patiently, letting Jackson take all the time he needs to get ready.  

Jackson’s pink panties don’t come off.  Jackson likes them; he doesn’t wear them much when he’s big, but when he’s little, he clings to them, soaking them wet with his come.  Derek is hardly going to complain; his princess does look very, very pretty in the panties, and anything that makes it easier for Jackson to go soft, to place himself in Derek’s hands, is okay with Derek.

“Is there anything you want today, princess?” Derek asks.  Jackson always gets to be in charge of special cuddles.  He sometimes lets Derek decide what they do, asking sweetly what his daddy wants.  Most of the time, though, even when he’s little, Jackson has a pretty good idea of what he wants, and he’s less afraid to ask for it when he’s small.  When he’s big, Derek often has to make him beg, has to drag things out until Jackson finally admits to himself and to Derek just how much he wants something.  This Jackson, Derek’s princess, isn’t very shy.

“I wanna get my mouth sticky,” he says.  “You said I could try to fit _all_  of you, Daddy.”

“I did promise that,” Derek says.  

“Then hurry _up_ ,” Jackson says.  

Derek undoes his pants and slips them down, but he reminds Jackson to go slow.  Jackson gets overeager, sometimes, and tries to tackle too much at once.  Derek always gives him a little bit of help, starting out.  He puts his hand on Jackson’s head, encourages Jackson to take his time.  Jackson likes to lick, first, focused and careful, until the tip of Derek’s cock leaks precome.  Once he gets the taste of Derek in his mouth, he always wants more, though.  Derek always has to remind him to be careful with his teeth, but Jackson slips his mouth easily over the head of Derek’s cock, sucking until Derek’s thighs are already shaking, until Derek carefully guides Jackson’s mouth further along.

“You look so good, sweetheart,” Derek tells him.  “You’re my perfect princess, getting your mouth on me like that.  Trying so hard to be good for me.”

When Jackson’s big, he sucks cock like he’s hungry for it, like there’s nothing in the world that would make him happier than Derek’s dick in his throat for the rest of his life.  He savors the taste of Derek, his eyelids and his body heavy, his lips swollen and coated in as much of Derek’s come as he lets spill out of his mouth.  His mouth is hot and wet, and if Derek let him, he’d kneel there for hours, just keeping Derek’s cock warm.  

When Jackson’s little, as determined as he is, he takes some coaching, takes gentle encouragement.  Takes some patience.  Jackson tries the hardest, wants to be the best for his daddy.  He wants to make his daddy messy, to make him nice and sticky all over Jackson’s mouth.  He wants to let his daddy make him messy, too, make his pretty princess panties even that much wetter with his big, daddy hands on Jackson’s little dick.  And those are all things Derek can give Jackson.  

Derek can’t explain why it’s so satisfying, why it feels so good to come in Jackson’s mouth only to have Jackson press a loud, messy kiss to his dick, to say he hoped he made his daddy feel better.  And why it’s so satisfying when Jackson gets a little bit shy after, but still lets Derek reach his hand into Jackson’s panties.  When he lets Derek press soft, sweet kisses against Jackson’s puffy, sticky lips as Jackson squirms.  When Derek gets his fingers on Jackson’s dick and hears the noises from Jackson’s mouth that he usually tries to hide, the soft huffs of breath, open-mouthed and uneven, the moan when Jackson shudders and spurts come, the whine and the, “ _Daddy_ ,” as Jackson rides through the orgasm into the oversensitivity.  

Jackson takes his underwear off when Derek coaxes him up for bath time, to wash all the sticky mess off his face and from between his legs, Derek’s hands careful with the washcloth.  Jackson is sleepy by the time he puts his soft, fluffy pajamas on, and Derek helps him brush his teeth before taking him back to bed.

“Can you tell me a story?” he asks, and Derek picks a book, knowing that he’ll start and won’t finish.  That’s okay, though.  Derek doesn’t mind watching Jackson slowly slip off to sleep, looking more relaxed and free of stress than just about any other time Derek has ever seen him.

There might be some lingering embarrassment in the morning.  The morning after the first time Jackson got really small, Jackson barely even met Derek’s eyes, and got defensive when Derek asked how he was feeling.  But he’s getting better at it.  Talking to Derek after, and being okay with everything he likes, and everything he feels when Derek gives it to him.  He’s getting better at going loose and letting himself slip, giving Derek the power to take care of him the way he needs.  He’s getting better at leaving Derek’s side unquestioned, and trusting Derek when he says that it’s rewarding and good, and that Derek likes it.  

So things are really pretty good, and Derek is sure that, with time, they’ll get even better.

**Author's Note:**

> On tumblr [here](http://sleepy-skittles.tumblr.com).


End file.
